


Nathan Versus Mortality

by runrarebit



Series: Misfits Moments [25]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Angst, Anxiety, Bottom!Nathan, Consent Issues, Curtis having a bad time, Dark, Dark!Simon, Friendship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Nathan having a bad time, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, a touch of homophobia, dark!AU, random stabbers, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrarebit/pseuds/runrarebit
Summary: Set during S03E02, afterParents will be Parents.In which Simon gets injured, Nathan gets distressed, and Curtis has a horrible time.





	Nathan Versus Mortality

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: For attempted rape and discussion of sexual assault and consent issues, Nathan having something of an unhealthy relationship to sex at times, also violence, and maybe it's worth TRIGGER WARNING for the fact that Simon's behaviour is sort of normalising the idea of bloody vengeance in response to the attack on a loved one for their group. 
> 
> I never was entirely sure about this fic, but here we are- I do feel guilty for not saving poor Curtis from the shit that happened to him in that episode, especially since I like him so much. Also, I'm a bit mean to Emma in this one, but that doesn't reflect what I think of her as a character so much as the fact that I don't think she and Curtis would get close if he wasn't single at the time. Thank you, as always, for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! Only two more complete fics and the fragments to go and then I'm fully on hiatus.

So, Curtis is a hot girl. Curtis is a hot girl in a relationship with two of the other hottest girls he knows— good thing he’s blissfully content giving up his rug munching days for the life of a cock gobbler or he might think that was a bit unfair. 

He’d caught the other man mid-change while he was wandering about the Community Centre trying to find something to distract himself with that’s not Simon— whatever mercy the Probation Worker’s shrivelled little soul managed to cough up in response to his mum’s showing up and shouting about people sexually abusing him seems to have withered and died, because the man is once more giving them _looks_ if he catches them together and muttering about what he’ll do if he hears them shagging at any time when Simon’s supposed to be doing his community service. 

It’s not a wonderful way to live his life— in fact he fucking hates it. All those hours away from his boyfriend, only allowed to admire him from a distance, and being forced to sneak off to the loos and finger himself if he gets horny instead of getting the good and thorough pounding he craves. It’s almost enough to make him want to do something stupid so he can end up on community service as well— but then he’d have no choice but to spend all day in the company of that fucking Rudy, and he hasn’t yet reached the lows of desperation that make that sound like a fun idea.

Watching Curtis being a girl and prancing about doing this women’s athletics training thing is at least mildly entertaining— he’s been sitting on the sideline, shouting encouragement at his shockingly talented sort-of-mate— and also being as amusingly cuntish as he feels about the other girls competing. He’s heard a couple of them asking Curtis to do something about his “boyfriend”— which had made the other man snap ‘Oh fuck man, no way,’ pretty face all scrunched up in disgust, and made him start cackling that Curtis _wishes_ he’d let the man lick his pussy— only for the man in question to interrupt him with ‘Yeah, yeah, but your arse is a Barry-only buffet. We’ve all heard it all before—’ If Curtis had wanted him to respond with anything other than “exactly” then he’s not at all sorry to disappoint. 

One of the whining ones shows up at the bar later, while he’s happily sitting in Simon’s lap, his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around him— he sees her doubletake, recognising him and then realising who “Barry” must be— but then she gets distracted by hitting on Curtis all starfucker style— right in front of both Alisha and Nikki. He sees Curtis’ eyes widen in alarm, sees his girlfriends exchange a look, before turning a very different sort of _look_ on the girl. ‘Are you hitting on our boyfriend?’ Alisha asks, which makes the girl backpedal very fast, eyes very wide. Nikki gets involved then, with that lovely deadpan sarcasm of hers, and by the end of it the girl looks fit to run for the hills. He just presses his face against Simon’s neck and giggles to himself.

‘A friend of mine’s throwing a party,’ Nikki says after the girl finally slinks off. ‘It should still be on when you get off work if you want to go—’ this is directed at Curtis, but she does eventually deign to turn her attention to him and Simon, ‘And you two, I guess.’

In the end they ring the other two and all of them decide to go, even fucking Rudy. They creep through the streets like a pack, Curtis with an arm slung over Alisha’s shoulders, Nikki with an arm around her waist, him hanging off Simon— only Kelly and Rudy walking alone— after the man makes a fairly gross suggestion to her and she threatens to kick his teeth in. 

He’s feeling happy, comfortable, amongst the closest thing he’s ever had to real friends, thinking of maybe getting a bit pissed, dancing, grinding on Simon— and then there’s two men’s voices. Arguing. Coming closer. And then the two spill out onto the street from a darkened shopfront, the argument getting more and more heated. 

The two groups get tangled, the men in the middle of them, starting to push and shove each other— Kelly starts shouting, threatening to twat the two if they don’t piss off, Rudy starts making some obnoxious whining noise, the trio of Curtis and his girlfriend’s start backing away, and he and Simon— trapped between the men and the wall of the shop— start trying to edge clear, Simon manoeuvring them so his boyfriend is between him and the argument. 

He sees it first. Or at least he thinks he does. The streetlight catching on something in one of the men’s hands a moment before he lunges at the other, misses, and Simon makes a pained yelp. His boyfriend’s hand goes to his upper arm, darkness soon flowing over pale fingers. ‘You stabbed me!’ Simon says, sounding supremely offended, and then that blood covered hand balls into a fist and he punches the guy who did it hard enough to make him lose his footing.

‘Right, that’s it!’ he hears Kelly say, but he’s too busy panicking, grabbing for his boyfriend.

‘How bad is it?’ he yelps, feeling for the wound and then hissing as his hand soon gets covered in blood. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Kelly showing the two men off, but he’s too busy trying to find something to staunch Simon’s wound— shit. He shrugs off his jacket to get his t-shirt off, but Nikki is suddenly beside him, holding out a big wad of gauze she must have conjured. He takes it and presses it to Simon’s upper arm, even though his boyfriend keeps insisting he’s fine. 

‘I’m gonna call an ambulance,’ Curtis says, even though Simon protests he probably doesn’t need an ambulance. There’s quite a lot of blood though, sticking up his fingers, soaking into the gauze— He’s shaking, teeth rattling, but he can’t, he can’t— Simon _needs_ him.

Anyway, turns out it’s not a very bad stab wound. They end up sitting in A&E for hours, him fussing over Simon and Simon insisting he’s ok— Kelly stays with them, mate that she is, but the rest go off home ages before Simon’s arm gets sewn up by a harried looking Pakistani doctor and they get sent off.

When they’re back at the Community Centre he helps his boyfriend get cleaned up, heart thumping hard and ugly in his ears at the blood on both of them, the blood smeared over Simon’s white skin, under both their nails, soaked into the shirt and jacket his boyfriend had been wearing— making the fabric stiff— Is this something like what Simon feels every time he dies? It’s _horrible._

Once he’s got Simon tucked into their bed he goes to the kitchen to make them both a hot chocolate, needing something to do— feeling like his legs go out from under him the moment he’s alone. He sinks down into a squat, wrapping both arms around his waist, breaths coming panicked and fast, tears escaping to dribble silently down his face. What if it hadn’t been a relatively minor stab wound? What if Simon had been stabbed in the chest? Or the neck? What if he’d bled out in the street? _Simon’s_ not coming back if he dies. _Simon’s_ not immortal. _Simon_ could leave him without ever meaning to—

He feels sick. 

The worst thing is that when he needs comfort he goes to Simon, but he can’t exactly ask his boyfriend to comfort him about the man’s own mortality— it seems cruel. Too cruel. 

Somehow he pulls himself back together, dries his face on a wad of paper towel, and makes the hot chocolates— carrying them both up to his nest. It’s funny— he knows he’s a supremely selfish animal, yet he doesn’t want to distress Simon with his distress right now, so he tries to seem fine, ok, a bit upset about the stabbing— because he doesn’t want his boyfriend to think he doesn’t care— but not like he feels like he’s about to go out of his head about it. 

He doesn’t really sleep, curled up by Simon’s uninjured side. Every time he drifts off he wakes not long after, sure his boyfriend’s dead, died in his sleep, or died in the street, or not his boyfriend at all— that they’re nothing more than mates, or maybe not even that— strangers, _enemies_. 

The next day he feels clingier than usual, waking Simon up early by swallowing his cock, sucking him off with ruthless efficiency, letting him fuck his throat and using every trick he’s learnt to make his boyfriend come hard enough that Simon’s stunned stupid after. While Simon’s still a panting puddle on the sheets he spits out a gob of the man’s spunk, uses it to slick his fingers, and shoves them roughly up his own arse— fingering himself and wanking until he comes with a mewl, face pressed against his boyfriend’s side, trying to breathe in his boyfriend’s scent. He doesn’t want Simon to over-exert himself getting him off. 

He feels like crying after and isn’t sure why.

Anyway, it’s all over and done with and they’re curled back up together and napping while it’s still dark out and long before Rudy’s likely to show up— because the existence of the perverted little prick is not doing their sex life any good— he lurks around outside with a stiffy _listening_ is the thing, even when they’re not doing it somewhere out in the open where he can _watch._ It’s not really fun, knowing Rudy’s looking at him when he’s being fucked— there’s none of that enjoyment in scandalising someone, making them want him even if they don’t want to, showing off how good Simon is to him, how good Simon _fucks_ him— with Rudy watching he feels more like the star of a porn— and not a particularly _good_ porn either, more like the kind of porn someone watches because it’s the first thing they come across and what they want is to get off as quick as possible. He feels _cheap_ — an odd kind of feeling. The whole thing also infuriates Simon to the point of near homicide.

It’s even worse than usual that Simon has community service, because what he wants to do is remain within maybe ten centimetres of his boyfriend at all times, but apparently even the fact that his boyfriend was just stabbed isn’t enough to make the Probation Worker relent. Simon’s put on _light duties_ and he’s told to piss off.

At first he ignores the Probation Worker, hanging around just far enough from Simon that they’re not actually touching— but since _light duties_ apparently means picking up rubbish, and picking up rubbish means Simon has to push the cart as well as use the little grasper thing, he ends up trying to help— even though Simon tells him he doesn’t have to, that he shouldn’t because they might get in trouble—

They get in trouble. The Probation Worker— dressed in a fuck ugly t-shirt and shorts combination of all things— catches him and actually shoos him off, flapping his hands at him as if he’s a stray cat. He calls the man all kinds of names, a _cunt_ and a _bastard_ and a _homophobic prick_ , but it doesn’t seem to faze the man— who just repeats his threats about getting him kicked out of the Community Centre. 

He goes to find Curtis after that. Why is Curtis being allowed to turn himself into a girl and wander off without anyone noticing, yet he’s not even allowed to help his poor, perfect, lovely, gentleman of a boyfriend pick up rubbish? It’s not fair.

Mind you it’s not fair on Curtis that moments after he settles in to watch the other man run at speeds humans really don’t seem like they should be capable of, the prick Probation Worker shows up and starts hitting on his sort-of-mate. He can see from the sidelines how uncomfortable it’s making the other man— like, it should be funny, shouldn’t it? The Probation worker hitting on some girl, only the girl in question is actually a guy? He’s sure he should find it funny— but Curtis is kind of a mate and kind of a mate who obviously isn’t welcoming the attention and he finds himself actually kind of getting pissed off. 

While Curtis isn’t having as shit a day as him it soon becomes clear the other man isn’t exactly having a good one. While he’s wandering over to join the man on the walk back to the community centre he overhears it when Curtis runs into that girl who tried to fuck the guy him at the bar and she decides to tell him all about running into “Curtis Donovan” and how he thinks he’s a _big man_ , and has obviously used his waining star power to seduce two poor girls— who really should know better— into thinking maybe he’s got some prospects and they should hang around him hoping to get something out of letting him fuck them both— even though he’s only working at a bar. That makes Curtis’ face go sour and tight.

He kind of gets caught up in being a cunt to the girl for a minute, some sense of friendly solidarity— some memory of the other man ringing the ambulance the night before— and by the time he’s caught up with Curtis the Probation Worker has stuck his hand on the man’s arse, right up there too— inner cheek, fingertips probably actually touching his fanny. Curtis goes off, the Probation Worker acts like a prick, and he finds himself astonished at the surge of protective feeling he suddenly has. 

‘You know committing sexual assault in public probably isn’t sending the right message as a Probation Worker,’ he says as Curtis stalks off. 

‘What the fuck do you care?’ the Probation drawls. ‘Got tired of gargling _Barry’s_ hairy balls? Missing the muff? Or is it a case of queer solidarity between you and your little lesbian friend?’

‘Well you can’t blame her, can you?’ he says, swanning off after Curtis, ‘I know if your ugly knob was the only cock on offer I’d go back to giving my tongue rugburn in a heartbeat.’

‘You really are an annoying little prick,’ the Probation Worker calls, ‘and I was even feeling sorry for you for a bit and all.’

He ignores the man, trotting after Curtis. ‘You alright?’ he asks, feeling supremely uncomfortable in doing so.

‘ _Prick!_ ’ Curtis hisses. ‘Touching me like that— What am I supposed to do now? Should I tell Nikki and Alisha? I mean, I kind of knew what it must be like— but I get it now. I feel fucking gross.’

‘I mean, it’s probably amazingly obvious— but that wasn’t your fault, in case you were thinking it was,’ he says, because when shit like that’s happened to him in the past he’s really wanted someone to tell him that— and tell him in a way that he could believe. ‘You want me to round everyone up? We could all beat him up? Or I could just call Kelly—’

‘Nah,’ Curtis says, glancing over and giving him a strangely sincere look of thanks. ‘Thanks, yeah? But nah. We’ll all just get in more trouble.’

‘We could kill him and bury him out in the woods—?’ he suggests. ‘We’re not going to get in trouble if no one finds the body.’

Curtis shrugs, ‘I prefer to only kill Probation Workers when it’s unavoidable. Thanks though— you’re being surprisingly un- _you_ about this.’

He feels his face scrunch up in discomfort. ‘I hate to say it, but I think I might have actually grown up a bit.’

‘I can see that,’ says Curtis, and it’s said with a kind of approval that he finds he likes enough that he can resist his automatic reflex to say something horrible to deflect the situation. 

The rest of the trip to the Community Centre is taken up in Curtis asking after Simon and him admitting that what happened the night before scared the shit out if him. ‘But Simon’s alright, yeah, so don’t let it do your head in,’ is Curtis’ advice. 

When they get back to the Community Centre and Curtis is Curtis again the others are ordered to pick up rubbish off on the estate, so he waits until the Probation Worker is distracted in his office and creeps off after them. It’s good to just walk with Simon, insisting on holding the bag while his boyfriend picks up the rubbish— even though they got in trouble for pretty much the same thing earlier. Simon keeps trying to grab at him with his injured arm but he keeps darting out of the way, not wanting his boyfriend putting strain on it, until eventually Simon hands his rubbish grabber thing to Kelly and catches him with both arms, pulling him into a deep kiss and promising his arm isn’t even really hurting and wrapping it around his waist is hardly going to make him pop his stitches. It does feel a bit better to have Simon touching him again.

When they eventually have to go back to the Community Centre he goes with Curtis to watch run for a while again, before buggering off to get some smokes since he’s almost out. He doesn’t want to have to go out again later, when he could be spending time with Simon. 

He runs into Kelly and Alisha on the way, and when he asks what they’re up to Kelly replies with, ‘Felt like a Cornetto—’ She hesitates for a moment, then, ‘Come on, I’ll treat you one.’

Alisha chatters on about the fact Curtis is running again, as a girl, but doesn’t want her or Nikki watching him— and the way he’s so uncomfortable with his other form— and the fact that she and Nikki agree that he’s really hot as a girl, but don’t know how to tell him, and whether that’s weird— but it’s probably not weird, considering she’s already going with Nikki as well, and Nikki’s going with her, so it makes sense that since apparently they’re actually both _bisexuals_ they find their boyfriend’s girl form hot— doesn’t it?

‘Course it does, girl Curtis is dead fit,’ he tells her, just as Kelly has a bit of a moan about how many bisexuals seem to be in their little friend group.

‘There’s you, of course,’ she says, pointing to him, ‘And I think _Simon’s_ still one, because he was interested in girls first, wasn’t he? Then there’s you and Nikki—’ this is directed to Alisha, ‘— and I’m sure that Rudy wants to fuck half of us half the time— and I _know_ he wanks over you and Simon— so that just leaves me and Curtis— and I’m not even sure what you’d call Curtis, since he can turn into a girl and he’s going with two other girls— I’m starting to feel left out. Do you think I should try kissing a girl?’

‘Do you want to try kissing a girl?’ he asks her, intrigued— What if they’re all bisexuals? He’d suggest it was the Storm— but he liked sucking cock before that. 

‘Not really—’ she begins, then holds up a hand, halting them all. 

He glances at what she’s looking at, sees some reasonably fit bloke getting out of a red car and heading into the Cemetery. ‘Who’s he?’ he mouths at Alisha.

She looks at him like he’s an idiot for a moment, before whispering, ‘That’s right, you didn’t come with us. He’s the guy we sold our powers to and bought the new ones from.’

‘With my _flat money_?’ he hisses back, but she just looks confused. 

Kelly tells them to shut up and starts following the guy into the Cemetery— after wasting most of a perfectly good Cornetto— so they end up following her, creeping around the place like a right bunch of twats. Unlike the other two at least _he’s_ not stupid enough to chuck away the end of his ice cream, still nibbling on the cone while they’re staring down at some grave and Alisha’s going on about Kelly fancying the bloke. He is good looking, he supposes, but he’s sure she could do better— mind you, if the amount he’s charging for new powers is anything to go by he must be doing alright for himself, so she could do worse than hang around him getting him to buy her stuff until that someone better comes along— 

Once everyone’s gone for the evening Simon wants a shower, so they have to carefully tape a plastic bag over the wound before getting under the water. He can’t relax. He keeps worrying the plastic won’t keep the water out, that Simon will somehow get an infection— that his arm will have to be chopped off, that he’ll die— he tries to make sure his boyfriend has his arm out of the spray at all times— not hard, considering how shitty the water pressure is— and insists that Simon just stand there while he does all the work of getting them clean. 

He washes himself first, cursory, not lingering, not even trying to make a show of it, before turning all is attention to Simon, lathering his body gently, reverentially, washing his hair, soaping up his cock— his boyfriend grabs his wrist. ‘I’m ok,’ Simon says, ‘I really am. I wish you’d let me touch you. I want to fuck you. I want to make you come.’ He agrees, but only as long as Simon lets him do most of the work.

Which is how they end up with Simon on his back on the bed, him riding his boyfriend, taking all his body weight on his legs this time, not even letting himself use a hand on Simon’s chest to keep his balance. He tries to make it good, and it does feel good for him, but the anxiety that he’s going to do something to hurt his boyfriend prevents the pleasure from building. Usually he comes easily— not quite _premature ejaculator_ easily, but he has no trouble keeping his cock hard and getting off with a cock in him, in fact he finds it helps— even the thought of it is usually enough to send the blood throbbing southwards— and there have even been a few times Simon has managed to fuck a couple of orgasms out of him in the time it takes for the man to even come once— but this time his boyfriend is clenching at his hips, thrusting up, teeth gritted and groaning, spunking up inside of him with a torrent of praise before he’s even partway there. 

He dismounts immediately, asks Simon if he’s ok, if he hurt him. His boyfriend groans in response, low and irritated, and rolls on top of him before he can stop the man. ‘ _I am fine,_ ’ Simon grits out.

‘You shouldn’t put weight on your arm like that,’ is his response, trying to push Simon back onto his back. With a soul deep sigh his boyfriend complies, reaching for him immediately and pulling him in close. He resists for a moment, but the desire to be close to Simon wins out even over his worry. He is careful though, makes sure no part of him is even _touching_ the affected limb. 

Simon kisses him then, whispers against his lips, ‘Will you let me make you come now?’

There’s this horrible moment when he realises he doesn’t want to. He’s no longer turned on, cock soft, whatever part of his mind that comes over all mewling and needy feeling cold and untouchable. He stares at his boyfriend in panic, before Simon seems to realise what’s going on. ‘We don’t have to!’ the other man rushes to say. ‘Not if you don’t want to. I couldn’t live with myself if I made you—’

‘Why don’t I go get us some dinner!’ he blurts out, interrupting his boyfriend. ‘Burgers sound good to you? I still have some of the money dad gave me—’

He can see Simon wants to protest but eventually the man bites the words down. ‘Why don’t I come with you?’

‘No, no,’ he insists, gently pushing on his boyfriend when the man tries to get out of bed, ‘You take it easy, relax, I’ll be back soon.’

When he does return with burgers and beer he’s fetched from the kitchens Simon almost seems nervous, but the man relaxes when he climbs into the bed beside him and snuggles into his good side while they eat, then curls up with him to try and sleep. He doesn’t really sleep though— same bullshit nightmares again. 

The next day, before training, Curtis comes and sits beside him on the sidelines. He glances at the other man, taking in the embarrassed but oddly pleased expression on that pretty woman’s face. ‘So—’ Curtis says after a long moment. ‘Like, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but I want to tell someone—’

He turns his full attention to the other man, cocking a curious brow, ‘Do go on, you’ve got me all intrigued.’

‘I don’t want you spreading this around though, don’t go telling Rudy or something—’

‘Like I’d tell that little prick anything,’ he interrupts to say.

Curtis shoots him a smile of sympathetic Rudy based annoyance, before that smile turns a little naughty— oh, this is going to be a sex thing. _Curtis_ of all people is going to confide in him a sex thing. More than intriguing. He sits up, leans in close to the other man— ‘Well, last night me and Nikki and Alisha— you know— while I was— _you know_ —’ Curtis gestures to himself.

‘When you were a girl?’ he asks. 

Curtis nods. ‘It was—’ the man trails off, tongue flicking out to wet his lips—

‘That good?’ he asks, kind of incredulous.

Curtis nods. ‘Like, I’m not giving you the details of what we did, but I kept coming and coming and coming, I’ve never felt anything like it.’

He thinks back to some of his better times with Simon— ‘I think I have,’ he says a little wistfully. Now he’s having trouble getting off even once, let alone enough times it feels like his brain is melting. He’d given Simon another blow job, first thing, before the man was fully awake like usual, and this time he hadn’t even felt like wanking. Maybe it’s just the couple of nights of no sleep.

‘I figured you maybe—’ Curtis says, without adding any more. After a moment the man says, ‘When Nikki slipped her fingers up—’ and then seems to realise this probably counts as “details of what they did,” ‘—anyway, I kinda want to apologize to you for not getting it before, giving you a bit of shit about it at the start— because if it’s anything for you like it is for a girl, I can kind of get why you’re always gagging for Simon’s cock now.’

He feels oddly touched. Like, it’s a very weird thing to find touching, but somehow Curtis admitting to him that the man likes being fucked as a girl— or whatever that admission actually means— makes him feel like they actually might be proper mates now. He determines to do his best not to tell anyone, and to definitely not let it slip to Rudy.

Fucking Rudy, annoying Curtis when they return to the Community Centre and then pulling him aside and asking him how he knows “her”, acting like he had even half a chance with “her” at this party he’s surprisingly heard nothing about— even though it’s happening in his home. He tells Rudy he’s got more chance getting the vending machine to want to suck his cock and then goes to admire Simon for a bit.

His boyfriend insists on taking him out for drinks that evening when he says he doesn’t feel like going to the party at the Community Centre. They go somewhere nice, that wine bar Simon’s taken him to a couple of times— with or without the others— and sit side by side at a table. Simon takes his hand as they sip their drinks, turning it back and forth in his grip for a bit, before looking at him with serious eyes, ‘Are you ok Nathan? Have I done something— Do you want to break up with me?’

‘No!’ he yelps. ‘Never. Never Barry! _I love you_ — I do. I _love you_ — I’m just a bit—’

‘Is it because I got stabbed?’ Simon asks.

He nods. ‘I don’t know why I’m all—’

Which is when Simon’s phone rings. The man fishes it out, frowning at the screen. ‘It’s Alisha—’ he says. 

They share a look. Alisha is hardly going to ring _Simon_ for a bit of casual conversation. ‘If she wants you to come and dispose of any more bodies you just say you’re busy.’

So, Curtis and Nikki and Alisha had gone to the party— Curtis in his girl form— and it seems Curtis’ drink has been spiked. Alisha had helped him to the bathroom to lie down while she went to find Nikki— who couldn’t hear her phone over the music. When they got back Rudy was— well, Rudy insists he misread the signals Curtis was putting out, but neither of the girls think that’s an excuse when it’s pretty obvious Curtis was off his head at the time— so they may have gotten a bit distracted by having a go at him and possibly smacking him around a bit in Nikki’s case— only while they were chasing him out of the bathroom and down the hall Curtis has disappeared and neither of them know where he is, so if Simon and him are still in the Community Centre they’d really appreciate the help in tracking him down. 

Even though they’re not they promise to be right there. 

The four of them search the entire building but can’t find him— not that it’s easy to search every nook and cranny— the place seems almost _designed_ to hide bodies after all— and it’s full of people and noise and movement. He’s honestly kind of worried. Not kind of— he is _worried._ He knows what guys are like— from both sides of the equation. 

He’s never spiked someone, never snuck more alcohol into someone’s drink, never done anything to an unconscious person, never tried it on with anyone who was near unconscious, or looked like they were off their head enough they had no idea what was happening, or didn’t seem like they could remember the difference between “yes” and “no,” but he knows he hasn’t always been— _good_ — about that stuff. He’s been with a lot of drunk girls, in fact _preferentially_ been with a lot of drunk girls, and almost always when he was a bit off his head himself— because— not that he lets himself think about it much— before Simon and Simon’s _kindness_ and the way they just— _work_ together. The way it’s easy, even though it shouldn’t be that easy, and he likes it and he never— well, not before this recent bit of freak out about Simon getting hurt— never really has those sudden moments when he feels uncomfortable and gross and weird and wrong and like he wants it to stop— before Simon sex hasn’t always been— _easy._ Sometimes his head would get in the way of it. So back then he preferred fucking drunk, because the drink made it easier, lowered his inhibitions, and he preferred fucking drunk girls— because if they had their own shit it’d make it easier for them, and even if they didn’t it would prevent them from noticing if he got it wrong. Freaked out a bit or wanted to be cuddled or started crying or whatever. Same with guys really. He needed the drink to have the courage to offer up what he wanted to do and they needed the drink to accept it— well, some of them, the others— the ones who preferred to get _him_ more drunk, maybe slip him something, spike him, prevent him from being able to—

At least he managed to keep his cherry, he reminds himself like he does every time a thought like that slips in. At least he could give it to Simon. 

Alisha comes storming past where he and Simon are rechecking the storage rooms, phone in her hand, a soft prattle of ‘it’ll be ok, it’ll be ok, I promise it’ll be ok, we’re going to come and get you,’ slipping between her lips. ‘Where’s Nikki?!’ she barks when she sees them.

Nikki is in the kitchen. When Nikki has been fetched the four of them head out into the night, Alisha still chattering reassurances into the phone. They find Curtis not that far away, girl form huddling in a doorway, eyes wild. It doesn’t take long to work out the coach at the training camp is the one who spiked his drink, took him to the man’s car, tried to rape him. 

As Alisha and Nikki are preparing to help their boyfriend home Alisha lets Nikki take his weight for a moment and grabs Simon’s good arm— ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but the easy way that bastard did it— he’s probably done it before. _Will_ probably do it again. And that he did it to _Curtis_ —’

‘You want me to deal with him?’ Simon asks, voice calm.

She nods, eyes glassy with unshed tears. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s alright,’ Simon says, and he can’t even bring himself to argue, to say Simon’s injured, to say he doesn’t want his boyfriend getting caught— his gaze keeps gong to Curtis’ trembling form.

Simon pulls him into a gentle kiss, says, ‘I’ll meet you back at the Community Centre.’

‘Don’t get hurt,’ is all he can think to say, feeling like he’s about to have a whole lot of _feelings_ all over the place.

‘I won’t,’ Simon promises, and then slips into the shadows, becoming invisible a moment later.

The party is still going when he gets back, when he breaks into the kitchen and steals a bottle of wine, taking it up to his nest to drink while he waits for his boyfriend to come back. It doesn’t take long.

Simon is clean, unbloodied, uninjured. ‘I pushed him down the stairs while I was invisible,’ is what the man says in response to his questioning look. ‘I don’t think he’s dead, but I’m pretty sure he broke his back. He won’t be coaching again.’

‘Good,’ he says, quietly. 

‘Can I have some of that?’ his boyfriend asks, gesturing to the bottle. He hands it over. Simon takes a long swig. ‘It’s different,’ his boyfriend says after a moment. ‘I don’t regret it, but it’s different. _Harder_ when the person hasn’t hurt _you._ When they’ve hurt you it becomes so easy, what I have to do so clear—’

He pulls Simon into his arms at that, trying not to be too careful about his arm, just wanting to feel his boyfriend close. Simon clings to him and they stay like that until the party ends, until everyone goes home, until they’re alone and they can wash a little of the stain of the night from their bodies.

He lets Simon fuck him after that, clinging to his boyfriend the entire time, coming like a punch to the gut— not even a hand on him— shuddering when Simon comes moments later. ‘I love you,’ he whispers against Simon’s skin the entire time.

He sleeps a little better, but still wakes in the dark and the small hours— this time though, an idea forms. A solution. 

The next day he tracks down that man, the one Kelly wants to shag.

‘You’re that powers guy, aren’t you?— I need another immortality power.’


End file.
